


A Matter Of Faith

by WillGrammer



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Conflict, King Louis, Knight Henri, Long Shot, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillGrammer/pseuds/WillGrammer
Summary: Louis always thought that Henri could understand why he did what he did. It was only natural for him to be disappointed when the man hadn't met his expectations.





	A Matter Of Faith

“My king,” Henri breathed out as he entered Louis’ study room, the heavy door closing behind him with a light tud.

 

He kneeled on his right leg over the large carpet that covered the floor, his heavy armor not bothering him during the act. Not after wearing it for decades now.

 

“You wanted to see me?” he looked up to meet with the man's grey eyes through his round glasses.

 

He looked… disturbed. It wasn't like him, to be seen so tense. Almost paranoid when requesting to see him alone.

 

Charrière was just another knight. He just had the audacity to voice his vision for the future of France, and Dega appreciated his honesty.

 

He was nothing like his father.

 

“Yes,” Louis nodded his head while he dipped his quill in ink, before he wrote something on a piece of paper that was over his desk, then placed his quill away and rolled the paper tightly.

 

He turned his head and smiled when noticing that Henri was observing his doings. He didn't seem too pleased with his guess to where that letter was headed. 

 

“You may rise,” Louis told him, watching him blink and nod his head before he did, now standing tall and strong, looking down at Dega, who was sitting on his small, old, wooden chair.

 

The same one that he once sat in during his studies as a mere child.

 

The king was sentimental like that.

 

“I'd like you to deliver this to our allies across the hills,” Louis tied the rolled paper with a thin line of rope before handing it to the blond, looking up at him, bringing his left hand to his nose, adjusting his glasses.

 

Henri took the paper in his hand, his eyes furrowing slightly to the thought of his king giving up more of their land for the people his father had bargained with.

 

The deal was no longer valid, and yet the young man felt responsible for his father's sins. It wasn't right.

 

“Why me?” Henri tried not to scowl, and focused on his breaths. His heart beating loudly in his chest when anger filled him to the thought of Louis punishing himself after years of great ruling.

 

His father's shadow still chased him down. It was reasonable, after all the years of abuse he went though under the steel hand of his father.

 

That didn't mean he had to follow the dead man's plans through.

 

“Because I trust you,” Dega kept their gaze, his right hand fisting the soft layers of his pants in a nervous habit.

 

Louis knew that many didn't favor his decision to give up pieces of his kingdom to the families of  the same refugees and robbers that  brought so much shame to them with their riots during his father's ruling.

 

Henri was one of them. He never tried to understand. Holding a grudge against the people that harmed his king and his legacy; the balance they had once, before all of this chaos.

 

And after those old men died, same as his king, the hate passed to their children.

 

Henri huffed and bit his lip, holding the letter in the palm of his right hand while bringing a hand to his beard, looking away from the smaller man, glaring at the wall, over a portrait of Louis’ mother.

 

Noticing his knight's obvious, almost insulting, unprofessional behavior towards the request he had been given, Dega’s eyes darkened.

 

“Look at me, Henri,” his voice was firm as he rose from his chair and stood in front of the man, his chest pressing against the blond's silver armor as he did.

 

Henri turned his head to watch his king, dropping his gaze to him once more, His shoulders and chest both firm through him armor as he obeyed the man through gritted teeth.

 

“They brought us nothing but chaos, Louis,” the hurt in Charrière's voice was nearly went by unheard near the anger that accompanied it, and he squeezed the note in his palm, nearly ruining it.

 

Louis brought his left hand upwards, his fingernails scratching over Henri's armor, voicing a screech when the silver now had trails of the man's fingernails upon it.

 

Henri growled at the sound and grabbed Dega's wrist firmly, only to be met with the man's following scream.

 

“They died with my father, in the fire!” the smaller man yelled, his glasses falling from his nose, to the floor, cracking loudly, but being nothing but a background noise to his words.

 

“Their children done nothing wrong, and if you think that I'm going to let innocent people rot, in these small villages and tiny, crowded cabins… you know nothing,” he spat, emotion bursting out of him.

 

“If you think I am doing this to correct my father's wrongs, you are mistaken, my boy,” Dega continued, his words full of viper.

 

Henri breathed heavily at that, his eyes widened for a short moment before he released his grip from the king’s wrist, taking a step back.

 

He tried to gather his thoughts, his eyes still focused on the man in front of him, hearing the disappointment in his voice.

 

“I thought you were different,” he heard Louis say, sadness washing over them both in unison when the words were spoken.

 

Dega turned his back to him, looking out the window at the edge of the room.

 

“Louis,” Henri then said, his shoulders fell when he made a step forward towards the smaller man, getting no reply out of him, and often the silence could be defeating.

 

So he backed away, closing his eyes shut as he himself turned his back to Dega, releasing a heavy breath from his nose before he opened his eyes and walked to the door.

 

“I'm sorry,” was all he said before he left, and after a few seconds of standing in his place, Louis turned and stared at the door as it closed.

 

As he listened to Henri's distant, heavy steps become nothing more than an echo, Dega's gaze fell to the blurred sight of his broken pair of glasses across the carpet, and he sighed.

 

The door closed shut, and Louis shivered in his place, suddenly small, and fragile, same as the boy he was on the day his father had died.

 

And just like his glasses, his faith in Henri Charrière was now shattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this to distract myself from a major headache I'm having, I hope that you'll enjoy reading, and find that small refrence to 'Gape Paid' I threw in there haha.
> 
> It was time for some Depillon angst, no? 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://will-grammer.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please kudos, and let me know what you think in the comments below. 
> 
> As always, and until next time, 
> 
> -Alex.


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